When The Girl Cries
by JessieJay13
Summary: Harry Potter was too sensitive for his own good. Empathy was another of his endearing quality. He couldn’t stand it when girls cried, and he would do almost anything to make the tears stop. And Seraphim Cattily intends to take advantage of it.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Harry Potter was just too sensitive for his own good. Empathy was yet another endearing quality of this wonderful boy, though many would call it a curse.

He couldn't stand it when girls cried.

Harry hated it when he thought he had made a girl feel bad. He would do almost anything to stop the tears, anything to relieve his sense of guilt and responsibility.

And the girls knew it.

Harry's reputation as a push-over had spread through Hogwart's female population with alarming rapidity. Nearly every girl in the school knew of Harry's quick-trusting, giving, and guilty nature, and many intended to take advantage of it.

Seraphim Cattily was one of these girls. Though very beautiful on the outside, there was nothing at all angelic about this girl as her name suggested. A more fitting title might have been Lucifera, appropriate for someone as cruel, greedy, and dangerous as Seraphim Cattily.

What made her most dangerous was Seraphim's skill at deception, persuasion, intimidation, and subtlety. She could dictate your every move to her whim without leaving so much as a hint of her involvement. There was no doubt about it: Seraphim Cattily was the master of deceit.

Seraphim stood in the small chamber off the entrance hall, glaring in distaste at the tiny eleven-year-olds packed in with her and twirling a blonde curl around her finger in boredom.

Seraphim was sixteen, and her parents had forced her to transfer from Durmstrang to Hogwarts--a much lesser school in her opinion--for her sixth and seventh years. She had screamed, raged, begged, cried, and even bribed but nothing could dissuade her parents from the transfer.

The nervous first years shied away from her, some looking nervous and some downright frightened of having an upperclassman in the room with them. Seraphim chuckled to herself; nothing at all about her appearance was frightening.

Soft, blonde curls with sun-kissed highlights fell around her face to just past her shoulders. Typical, right? But her eyes were anything but. They were a deep shade of purple, framed by thick, dark lashes that fanned impressively against her porcelain skin. She was perfectly proportioned, toned but soft. Exquisite, she had been called.

'Miss Cattily, you will be sorted last, so just wait in here as the first years are sorted,' instructed a woman with a stern face and a tight, black bun: Professor McGonagall.

'Yes, ma'am,' Seraphim agreed demurely, inclining her head and smiling shyly. She had figured out long ago that if you charmed the adults early, no one would suspect ill about you. She pretended to listen attentively as McGonagall explained the houses, the point system, and the discipline plan to the first years. She had become quite talented, as well, at pretending to look interested. If you look at a spot between people's eyes when they speak to you, it looks like you're really looking them in the eye. Very convincing.

The first years filed out, shuffling their feet and fidgeting with nerves. Seraphim smiled at them, remembering how she had felt on her first day at Durmstrang: bloody terrified. But not of the huge people surrounding her, not of the dark arts they taught, but of being too weak.

At Durmstrang, everyone was tough, just by nature. If you weren't as strong as anyone else, you were picked on, beat up, sometimes tortured, and the teachers turned a blind eye, or even joined in. If you weren't physically tough, like Seraphim, you had to find another way to intimidate and defeat. In her case, it had been found in her acting skills and her intellect. They had saved her neck many a time.

'Miss Cattily! We're ready for you,' came McGonagall's whip-like voice through the door. Seraphim stood and smoothed her robes. She took a few deep breathes, put on her best nervous face, and followed the Professor into the Great Hall. It was filled to bursting with students, all watching her, curious about the new girl in their midst.

'Cattily, Seraphim!' McGonagall called, gesturing for her to sit on a small stool. She did so and the old woman placed a frayed and torn hat on her head. Normally she wouldn't have let that ratty thing near her, but she wanted to look as Hogwarts-like as possible.

'_Well, well, lookey here,'_ said a quiet voice in her head, causing her to jump. Nothing she had read about the Sorting Hat mentioned that it would speak to her. _'So much ambition. Greed, intelligence, audacity, confidence, so many qualities of so many houses. But where to put you…'_ Seraphim waited with her eyes closed, gripping the edges of the stool in mock anticipation. 'SLYTHERIN!'

The hat shouted this word to the whole hall. The table on the far left erupted in cheers. She could see one boy with sleek platinum blonde hair eyeing her with interest. She smiled flirtatiously at him and ran to snag the seat beside him. A girl with short hair and a pug face glowered at her from across the table.

Seraphim laughed at Dumbledore's opening statement ("Eat, eat, and eat some more! Must have plenty of energy with which to block out the lessons tomorrow!"), and spoke to the boy she was sitting by.

'Hi,' she said coyly, barely catching his eye. She knew that some boys loved a challenge, innocence, shyness, and this boy looked just the type.

'Hey,' he said back, his voice a low tenor, smooth and mellow. 'I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,' he said, smirking and holding out a hand for her to shake. She did so gently, blushing convincingly and giggling.

'I've heard of you, your father works in the ministry,' she said truthfully. 'I'm Seraphim, but you can call me Sera.'

'That's a nice name. Fitting,' Draco said, giving her a once-over. Seraphim blushed deeper and giggled again, becoming suddenly interested in her food. She had learned to control her emotional signs--blushing, breathing, crying, laughing, smiling, even heart rate--by the age of seven, and she could convincingly portray any emotion at the drop of a hat. She was a hell of an actress.

She allowed Draco to introduce her to a few of his friends. The pug-faced girl was Pansy, who glared at her and squeezed her hand rather harder than necessary when shaking it. Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and a few others, as well. She was polite to all of them, smiling a lot and shooting furtive glances at Draco that she made sure were noticed by all of them.

Soon, the plates cleared and the talking died out. Seraphim once again pretended to listen as Dumbledore, the headmaster, spoke to the school about announcements, rules, banned items, advise, and the like. In other words, boring stuff no one cared about.

They were dismissed to their dormitories. Draco lead her all the way down to the Slytherin common room, which must have been under the lake or else it wouldn't have that odd green tint to the light. He then reluctantly handed her off to Pansy, who would be her roommate all year. Great.

The room was sparsely furnished, consisting primarily of two beds, two bureaus, a bookshelf, and a desk. All were made of a dark wood and upholstered or accented with green velvet. Seraphim immediately plopped down on what looked to be the comfiest bed, as the other one had a cracked leg that probably squeaked in the night. Pansy slammed--and locked--the door and turn to glare at her.

'I know exactly what you're trying to do, _Seraphim_,' she hissed, her glare furious enough to incinerate steel. Seraphim gave her a glance before turning back to her trunk.

'Why would you suspect me of something like that? I'm not doing anything,'' Seraphim lied, trying to look hurt and beginning to load her trunk into one of the bureaus.

'Like hell you aren't!' Pansy scoffed. 'You're trying to take Draco away from me, you little harlot.' She poked Seraphim sharply in the chest, her face an inch away. Seraphim took a step back, her amethyst eyes glinting dangerously, raising an eyebrow at the stocky girl threatening her.

'Just in case you didn't notice, it was _Draco _who was drooling at the sight of _me_, not the other way around,' she pointed out coldly. 'So get your gaudy little face out of mine.'

Pansy gaped at her. Despite the lightening-fast personality switch from bright and friendly to cold and threatening, she was used to being the alpha-girl. All the other girls had admired her for being allowed to get near Draco, the Slytherin prince; she had never had anyone insult her before, except for the Golden Trio, of course. She mouthed soundlessly for a moment before crying out, 'Gaudy?! What do you mean "gaudy," you…you, uh…'

'Not the brightest candle in the shop, eh?' Seraphim said calmly.

Pansy just stared, open-mouthed and confused.

Seraphim laughed quietly, her expression calculating and sardonic. 'I know why you're confused, really I do. I've seen that deer-in-the-headlights look too many times not to. You didn't expect me to insult your intelligence, did you? Too obvious?'

'Uh…'

'Yeah. But of course, I just follow my motto: do as your enemy expects, as they will not be expecting it.' Blank stare from Pansy. 'Let me explain in Laymen's terms:

'You're enemy always has expectations of you in battle, whether physical or verbal, whatever seems the most obvious or prudent course of action. You expected me to insult your intelligence, as most people would. But you, knowing by instinct that I am much more clever than yourself, knew that _I _would know what you expected of me. Of course, you would expect me to try and _not _do what you expected of me by doing something completely different. Therefore, you would be readying yourself for that other something, and, in order to catch you off guard with the best insult, I had to do what you originally expected, just because you weren't expecting it. Of course most of this is all done subconsciously. Understand?'

No response.

Seraphim chuckled again and, turning her back on the stunned girl, went about unpacking her trunk. A moment later she heard the door open, and close again. _'Ah, the rush of a well-executed takedown,'_ she thought euphorically. _'She'll be a dangerous one, though. Got to watch out for her.'_


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Seraphim once again had to feign ignorance of the school the next morning, letting Draco lead her to each of her lessons. They didn't have all the same classes, but whenever he had to go another way, apologizing profusely, she had no trouble finding the way on her own. She sat alone at a table in the back of the Potions class she had just before their last break.

She heard loud laughing and joking coming toward her. She glanced up discreetly to see a boy with messy black hair, startlingly green eyes hidden behind round glasses, and a lightening scar: Harry Potter. With him was a very tall and gangly boy with a mop of fiery red hair and freckles, and a pretty girl with bushy brown hair and more books then anyone else she had yet seen.

The three stopped when they spotted her. The redhead tried to turn away, muttering something, but the girl hit him on the arm, saying, 'Ronald, that is so immature! We should go talk to her. I can't believe you could be so tactless!' Harry Potter rolled his eyes at them and lead the way over to her.

'Hi,' he said pleasantly, smiling and sitting down to her left. 'I'm Harry Potter, and these are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger,' he introduced, gesturing to the boy and girl he was with and then holding out a hand for her to shake. She did so, smiling at him openly: he didn't have that shy-loving look. She inferred that he went for more bold and outspoken girls, so bold and outspoken she would be.

'Hi, Harry, Ron and Hermione,' she answered brightly. 'I'm Seraphim Cattily, but you can call me Sera.' She shook hands all around. 'Sixth years?' The others nodded. 'Me, too. I just got transferred. It's pretty nice here but I do miss my old school,' she said, sighing sadly and doing her best to look dejected. She conveniently forgot to mention the name of her old school.

'I'm sure you'll love Hogwarts as much as we do,' Harry assured her. 'But be careful of Snape, the potions master and head of Slytherin house. He can be really vicious when he wants to be, and he's not exactly what you'd call "nice" under even the best of circumstances.'

'Yeah, I thought so from what I saw at the Sorting Ceremony. He looked really vicious,' Seraphim told him, adding a shudder for emphasis.

'Eh, you get used to his sour mood and harsh grading eventually, I suppose,' the girl Harry had dubbed Hermione.

'He's taught me for five years and I've yet to get used to him,' the boy, Ron, muttered sulkily. Hermione hit him on the arm again, hissing something in his ear that made it turn pink.

Just then (speak of the devil) Snape himself swept into the room, instructing them to split into pairs and follow the instructions on the board before sitting down behind his desk and watching them like a greasy vulture, except with a bigger nose.

Seraphim had to admit that Harry Potter was much nicer than she had expected him to be. From all the articles in the _Prophet_, all the rumors and legends, she had thought he would be conceited, stuck-up, even crazy. But instead he was friendly and funny, talented and naïve, not to mention exceedingly cute.

She allowed him to work with her in potions, all the while talking and finding out more about this intriguing boy. When class was over Seraphim exited, talking and laughing, with Harry, only to see Draco gaping at them in horror, disgust, and jealousy. She said a quick apologetic goodbye to Harry and turned to Draco.

'Hi, Draco,' she said innocently, batting her eyelashes at him and flashing a winning smile. 'What's the matter?'

'What in the name of Merlin were you doing with Potter?' he hissed, "Potter" coming from him as though the name itself was poisonous.

'We were just talking,' Seraphim said defensively. 'He seems really nice. And I can talk to whomever I please; you don't own me, Draco.'

'_But it's Harry bloody Potter!_' he yelled.

'Don't you swear at me, Draco Malfoy,' Seraphim said threateningly, advancing on him, glaring at him with all her might. 'And back off.' She stalked away, her nose in the air, leaving a fuming Draco alone in the corridor.

An idea crept into Seraphim's head and she slipped into the girl's bathroom. Out of her bag she pulled a red eyeliner pencil. She rubbed her eyes hard enough to make them red and applied a bit of liner. She traced tap water down her cheeks and let it dry, then she headed for the courtyard where the rest of the class was taking their break.

She found Harry and his friends in a corner, huddled around blue-bell flames in a jam jar. She sat discreetly on a bench a few feet behind them and put her head in her hands, forcing her eyes to water. She let out a small sob, quiet enough for the others not to hear it, but loud enough to attract Harry's attention.

Sure enough, he turned at the sound. When he saw her sitting there, seemingly distraught, he hurried over and crouched down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

'Sera, are you okay? What's the matter?' he asked, looking much more concerned than she had expected him to.

'It's just…D-Draco got m-mad at me f-f-for t-talking to you,' she choked out, stuttering convincingly and wiping her streaming eyes. 'He st-started yelling at me a-and then he just l-left and…and…' she trailed off, dropping her head to her hands again.

Harry gave her shoulders a squeeze. 'That Malfoy always was a prat. Don't pay any attention to him. He's always hated him and I must say the feeling is quite mutual. He had no right to treat you that way and I promise if I see him anytime soon I'll be sure to hex him for you, okay?'

'Can I help?' Ron asked eagerly. Hermione smacked him on the arm yet again, making him yelp and glare at her in offense.

Seraphim gave them a weak chuckle and a watery smile. 'No, no, guys, I'd much rather do that myself,' she joked. The others smiled encouragingly at her. Just then the bell rang, signaling the end of break and the return to lessons. 'Go on, you three. I don't want you to be late to class because of me.' She wiped her eyes and gave Harry a soft shove toward the door.

'Are you sure you're okay? You don't need anything?' he asked, looking very reluctant to leave her alone in this fragile state.

'Yes, I'm fine, now go!'

Harry allowed himself to be dragged to class by his friends. Seraphim smiled: she was onto something, something good.

Seraphim entered the common room to see Pansy sitting by the fire, doing homework. She ambled over and sat down next to her. Pansy gave her a suspicious look, but turned back to her book.

'Hi, Pansy,' Seraphim said.

'Hello, Seraphim,' Pansy said stiffly.

'You don't have to be so frosty, you know. If you're still sore about the whole Draco thing, you can have him; he's not that great a guy anyway. Really jealous type.'

'Oh?' Pansy said, giving her an analyzing glare. Finding nothing insincere, she smirked at her superiorly. 'I knew you wouldn't be able to handle him. Only I know how to deal with Drakie.'

'Exactly. You know everything around, Pansy,' Seraphim said flatteringly. She hated buttering up to this repulsive girl but she needed some information and Pansy was the one to get it from. 'You must know all the gossip on other guys around here, too, right?'

'Of course I do,' Pansy said smugly.

'Then you can tell me a little something about one Harry Potter?' Seraphim asked nonchalantly. Pansy looked at her sharply.

'Why do you want to know about him?' she asked.

'No reason, really. I was talking to him in Potions and he seemed really nice. And cute.'

'Really? Well, if I tell you what I know, what's in it for me?' Pansy asked, obviously wanting to get something of equal value in return for this vital information.

'How about two galleons…and a makeover?' Seraphim added as an afterthought, glancing at Pansy's outfit and makeup. The other girl looked offended for a second, then thoughtful, then nodded.

'Deal.' They shook hands and Seraphim leaned forward eagerly.

'Okay, Harry Potter. Is supposedly a very sweet guy,' Pansy said. 'Well, not to me, but I'm the on-again-off-again girlfriend of his school rival so it's really to be expected. He's very kind, very supportive of the rights of creatures like werewolves and half-breeds and house elves and that sort of thing. He's smart-ish, very powerful, I admit he's sort of cute, and there's one thing that he's infamous about around here.'

She paused for dramatic effect.

Seraphim gestured impatiently for her to move on.

'He can't stand it when girls cry,' Pansy said in a rush. 'It makes him feel bad. He'll do anything to get them to stop. He's a total pushover.'

'Thanks, Pansy, that's exactly what I needed to hear,' Seraphim said slowly, biting her lip and smirking evilly.

'Oo, you have a scheming face on, what are you planning?' Pansy asked curiously.

'Just a little long-term goals, that's all,' Seraphim said vaguely, standing up. She went up to her dormitory and laid on her bed, formulating her plan carefully, building off her limited knowledge of the boy and his friends. She fell asleep there and she awoke with the plan fully formed in her mind, air-tight and foolproof.

Oh, what a year it would be.

'Hi, Harry,' Seraphim said brightly as she sat next to him in Transfiguration the next morning.

'Hey, Sera,' he said, smiling at her. 'I gather you're feeling better about yesterday? Did you hex Malfoy yet?' Seraphim laughed.

'No, but I wish I did,' she said. 'Wasn't that History of Magic homework just brutal? I couldn't remember the most recent restriction on werewolf rights,' she added, sounding frustrated.

'That it's illegal for werewolves to be in contact with uninfected persons within 36 hours before and after the full moon,' Harry said. 'But I know a werewolf and he never had trouble that long before he transformed. He was completely sane until the very moment of transformation. It's just--'

'--absurd. I completely agree,' Seraphim said, suddenly full of righteous anger. 'I think it's entirely unfair for these people to be penalized for something that wasn't even their fault. It's not like werewolves can control their lycanthropy. I understand some protective measures but this kind of segregation and prejudice is just going too far.'

'I know! This was the only place that my friend could get a job, and once the parents found out about it he had to resign. I don't even know where he is now, all because of these laws and mandatory registrations,' Harry said, obvious incensed.

'It's the same kind of thing with half-breeds. Just complete bigotry. Fear of the unknown and the strange, that's all it is,' Seraphim continued. She had worked up her train of thought that night, knew exactly where to go and what buttons to push.

'Completely. Half-giants, especially. Everyone expects them to be brutal and dangerous, but you know Hagrid, the gamekeeper?'

'Yeah.'

'He's half giant and he's one of the gentlest, most caring people I know. How anyone could think he was brutal just because of his mother is ridiculous.'

'Hear, hear,' Seraphim said.

'And my friend Hermione is completely obsessed with house elf rights. She even started this campaign group, S.P.E.W., the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare, two years ago and even though hardly anyone showed interest she still holds meetings for it. Want to join?' he asked.

'Sure,' Seraphim said, mentally gagging herself at the prospect. 'I've always known they were treated unfairly but I couldn't think of anything I could do to help. This might be just the thing they need to bring them out of their enslaved and underprivileged state.'

'Hear, hear.'

Harry smiled at her warmly. He seemed to be taking to her quickly. Seraphim smiled back flirtatiously, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear and blinking slowly at him. Harry blushed slightly and turned to the front of the class as McGonagall began the lesson. Seraphim smirked inwardly; everything was going exactly as she planned.


End file.
